Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (13 page)

“My God.” His voice was husky, dark. “You are magnificent.”

She blushed, but didn’t have a chance to reply as he bent to press a hot kiss against her collarbone. He let his mouth move lower, sucking and kissing her throat, then dipping between the valley of her breasts.

Sensations so powerful and focused they almost hurt exploded inside her, stealing her breath and any remnants of reason that remained. She couldn’t help the wanton arching of her back or the way she clutched at his hair when he returned his mouth to her tingling nipple. This time there was no scrap of silk to separate his hot tongue from laving her skin, and the sensation was more focused and powerful.

His hands, which she had forgotten about thanks to the seductive play of his skilled tongue, now drew her attention. He stroked down the apex of her body in feather-light torture. Lower and lower until he grasped one bare thigh. She found her legs opening of their own accord in a shameless offering of her feminine core.

She was surprised when he didn’t immediately take that offering. Instead, his fingers teased, tracing the outside line of her hip and down, stroking across the top of her trembling knee, then making the opposite journey up her inner thigh, all the while suckling her nipples as she writhed in blissful agony.

His fingers moved up and up, and she lifted her hips as he came closer and closer to the center of her heat. The burning point of origin of her desire. But he stopped just as his hands promised relief.

He drew back to look at her, searching her face with intensity.

“Please,” she found herself murmuring, begging. “Touch me.”

“I want to touch you. By God, I want to touch you. But if I do…” He trailed off, and she saw the internal battle reflected on his tense face. “Meredith, if I touch you now, I won’t want to stop. I may not be able to stop until I’ve taken you, claimed you. If you want to change your mind
about sharing my bed, giving me your body, now is the time to say so.”

His words sank into her haze and forced her to remember the duty she’d all but forgotten in the heat of passion. She had fully intended to pull away before things went too far…as far as they already had and as far as they would surely go if she didn’t take his offer. But with every touch, Tristan stole those rational plans, made her forget her purpose in being in his home, his room…his life.

She stared at him, his face so close to hers. His eyes filled with desire and passion and promise. And she let herself forget again. Tomorrow would be soon enough to remember duty.

She let her trembling hand slip to his and lifted it. Gently, she pressed his fingers to the heated juncture of her thighs.

“Touch me,” she demanded in a harsh whisper.

Not a breath passed before his mouth came back to hers, harder and with more purpose. She groaned as his fingers clenched, gently massaging as powerful pleasure began to pulsate rhythmically in every nerve ending.

Tristan smoothed the damp curls aside. Her heat, her wetness greeted his fingertips, letting him know just how ready she was. But he hesitated to simply take her. No, he wanted to savor these shared pleasures. When morning light broke, he knew it might not be a night they repeated.

She let out a broken sob as he slipped one finger across her, then inside. Slowly, he stroked, watching her face as her pleasure mounted. Surely she was never more beautiful than at this moment, her face flushed, her eyes partly closed as she gripped his shoulders. Little moans broke from her lips, signaling an impending loss of control. When her body trembled and clenched around his finger, he let his thumb find the little pearl of her pleasure and pressed down.

Immediately, Meredith let out a cry, her heels digging into the mattress, her back arching as she quivered around his fingers in powerful release. Pride swelled within him, matching his desire, perhaps even surpassing it.
He
had given her that pleasure.
He
had made her cheeks and chest flush with release. And he could make it happen again and again.

In fact, he intended to do just that.

Rising, he slipped out of his boots and the trousers that confined his throbbing erection. Though Meredith’s lids were hooded, he knew she took in every movement. A fact proven when he freed his member and straightened up.

No training in the world could have held back Meredith’s gasp when she saw Tristan in all his naked glory. And it
was
glorious. With firelight framing him, he looked even more like the gods she had compared him to earlier.

Her stare was blatant. She knew it. She didn’t
care. She needed to burn the moment into her memory because she might not…well, she didn’t want the desperation that accompanied that thought, so she pushed it far from her mind.

His trim hips and powerful thighs were strong enough. Certainly Tristan Archer was not a man who would ever need padding to fill the tight breeches that were currently in fashion. But it was the thrusting erection she couldn’t take her eyes from.

Even as he climbed on the bed beside her, she stared. Only when he cupped her cheek and turned her face toward his did she stop.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, smoothing tangled curls from her cheeks.

“I never feared you’d hurt me.” She smiled. “I am not some missish debutante. But it has been…” She trailed off with a blush. “It’s been a long time.”

There was a brief expression of triumph that brought the rake back to his face. A possessive gleam in his eyes told her how pleased he was that he would be the first man since her husband to fill her, to claim her and give her pleasure.

“Then I will make it worth the wait,” he said, low and close to her ear as he slipped her beneath him.

“I know.”

He met her eyes, never breaking his gaze as he positioned himself between her legs. The hard tip of him nudged her weeping entrance, and then he
was gliding inside, filling her, awakening pleasure and rekindling desire long extinguished and never so intense.

She clutched his shoulders, digging her nails in as he took her inch by inch. When he filled her to the hilt, he shut his eyes with a low groan that told her just how long he’d denied himself this pleasure as well. And, like him, she felt triumph that she was the one woman he couldn’t resist.

His mouth came down and the passion in his kiss belied the utter control of his body. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then his hips rocked. He took her with slow, sure thrusts, coaxing her to move with him, to climb higher and higher with each grinding movement.

She heard cries echoing in the room each time he filled her. It took a moment to realize they were her own. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

He seemed to read that desire, to understand it even though she hadn’t spoken her request. He broke their kiss, watching her as he slid his hand down her body. He massaged her aching breasts, his hands warmed her bare sides, then he slipped his fingers between their surging bodies. He found the same pleasure bud he had stroked before, but this time she had the added pleasure of his body filling hers. His weight claiming her. His mouth taking hers with the same slow cadence of his hips.

When he stroked her, the tingles of release focused. The next stroke made them spread and intensify. The third sent her over the edge. She exploded with a sensation more powerful than anything she’d ever known. Her hips jolted wildly, her legs wrapped around him as her cries were lost in his mouth.

He stiffened, his head dipping back, and he clutched her closer as she stole his last vestiges of control and he filled her. Meredith sighed with utter contentment as Tristan relaxed on top of her. She held him tighter, smoothing her hands along his back and pretending the moment would never end.

But the hateful little voice far in the back of her mind told her over and over that it
would
end. And then she would soon face the consequences of sleeping with the enemy.

M
eredith was awake, but didn’t have the energy to open her eyes. She felt too languid. Her body too heavy. Warmth suffused her skin and sated pleasure made her lazy.

She felt…
good.
And she realized she hadn’t felt that way for a long time. Certainly, she’d been happy. She’d laughed and danced and been thrilled by her work. She thought she’d been satisfied by those experiences, but now she knew that wasn’t so. Until this moment, she hadn’t known the meaning of satisfaction or pleasure.

It was a terrifying realization, and she opened her eyes with shock. But what she looked upon brought her no less shock or pleasure.

Tristan lay on his side next to her. Like her, he wasn’t asleep. But he was watching her. Not touching her, but simply
watching,
eyes soft with emotions she couldn’t place. White sheets rode low on his hips, making his skin look tanned in the dying firelight. And accentuating each curve of every beautiful muscle on his body.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder. She traced the line of his arm, smoothing her hand along his skin and awakening her desire with every stroke of her trembling fingertips.

He smiled at the touch, and when she reached his hand, he caught hers and brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. Seeing his mouth brush her skin gave her a shiver of anticipation, but she resisted that sensation.

She had to leave.

Surrendering to the emotion that crackled between them was something she refused to regret, but it was a fantasy, nothing more. Pulling away was the only way to keep herself sane and finish this investigation. Pretending she never found release and passion in Tristan’s arms was the only way she could force herself to keep compiling evidence of his guilt.

But doing that was so hard when he rubbed a stubbly cheek against her palm.

“I—I can’t stay,” she whispered, but the statement was too quiet and weak to be believed.

His eyes darkened and he held fast to her hand. “Don’t go.”

She shut her eyes. It was so hard to resist him. Especially when he slipped a hand around her waist and dragged her across the short distance that separated them to hold her against his chest. Their naked skin brushed, and her body reacted of its own accord, just as she felt his body respond to hers.

“Tristan,” she said, fighting to recall her intentions, her duties. “This was…a moment in time. One I shall never forget, but it cannot go further…can it?”

He looked down at her, his eyes nearly black in the dying light. His lips thinned and his brow furrowed, as if he remembered something about the truth of her words. But what? His guilt? His misdeeds?

Her chest tightened, but she couldn’t make herself pull away from his embrace.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

Disappointment flowered inside her, even though he was only making things easier. Gently, she pulled back, but his grip on her waist only tightened, imprisoning her.

“Perhaps we cannot go any further than what we’ve already shared,” he continued. “Certainly, I’m unable to make promises of a future. It isn’t fair to you. My every gentlemanly instinct tells
me I should let you leave this bed. We should pretend we never shared tonight, but I—I want—”

Her heart throbbed, the rush of her blood drowning out everything but Tristan.

“What do you want?” she whispered, praying, though she wasn’t sure what answer would give her what she desired. Hell, she wasn’t sure
what
she desired.

He cupped her cheek and pressed one kiss next to her eye. “I want tonight. I want what I found in your arms, here in my bed.” He pressed another kiss against her cheekbone, and her heart fluttered. “I didn’t believe anything so good, so right, could exist for me again after—”

He shook his head as he cut himself off. “I need that, Meredith. I need you.”

Her breath caught as swells of emotion threatened to overtake her. “But you’re not able to offer a future? Only this?”

“No.” His voice was so low she strained to hear the response. “Not now.”

“Why?” she asked, unable to silence the spy in her completely.

Tristan leaned away. For a moment he only stared at her, and she thought he might confess whatever ill deeds he was involved in. Explain the things that so obviously tormented him. She held her breath, praying he would. If only he could trust her enough to share the truth, there had to be a way to save him. To repair whatever he’d done.

But then he shook his head again. “My future is uncertain.”

“No one knows their future. Why is yours more uncertain than anyone else’s?” she asked, wanting to pound her fists against his chest and demand he tell her the truth.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Too many reasons to explain. But since I cannot see my own future, I can’t, in fairness, offer one to you.”

Tears stung behind her eyes, and she shut them so he wouldn’t see the torture in her soul. His words brought reality crashing around her. When he spoke of the uncertainty of his future, she knew what he meant. The lies. The evidence sitting in an ever-growing pile in her chamber.

But when she composed herself, she also knew, just as strongly, that she couldn’t deny she wanted a part in his foggy future. Despite everything.

It was wrong. It went against her very character. But she couldn’t change it, no matter how she tried to fight the feeling, pretend it didn’t exist. It was there and grew more powerful each moment she spent with Tristan. These stolen hours only proved that point.

“But you still desire me, even if you cannot promise me anything more than the moment we’re in?”

He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her with all the passion and emotion they had already shared. With everything in him that hadn’t been
tainted. She felt him give her all that he had. It wasn’t enough.

She didn’t care. She had denied she was a woman for so long, a woman with needs, a heart…and hopes that Tristan seemed to fulfill.

“I want you more than anything. But if you cannot live by those terms, I understand. I won’t torture you or myself by forcing you to give more than you’re able.” He waited, as if holding his breath, for her reply.

Feeling dueled with duty. But passion won, as it hadn’t for so many years. Slowly, she threaded her fingers into his hair and brought herself closer.

“I’ll take whatever you can give, for as long as you are able to give it,” she whispered. “It is a devil’s bargain, I know, but I can’t refuse.”

Relief was palpable in the room. It hung in the air, it was clear on his face, she felt it in his touch. Tristan slipped her beneath him and she surrendered to his hands, to his mouth, to the moments she could take.

Outside of this bed, she would continue her investigation. But here with him, she vowed to be a woman, Tristan’s woman.

Not a spy.

Tristan strummed his fingers along the waist-high stone wall of the terrace overlooking the garden below. His mind wandered as the partygoers drank tea and chatted. It was one of the last events
of the fortnight-long soiree. He could hardly believe the party was coming to an end.

He scanned the group and found Meredith. He was mesmerized by the way she stood, the way her face lit when she smiled or laughed at something her companions said, the way she lifted a hand to push a wayward strand of hair away from the corner of her delectable mouth.

When the gathering was over, he wondered if their attachment would end as well. He had confessed he could give her no future, but perhaps once he finished his business, something that would occur in the next two days, that would change. Once his duty was fulfilled, didn’t he deserve some happiness? Even his father couldn’t have denied him that.

For now, he comforted himself with thoughts of a less distant future. Tonight, in his bed with Meredith. The smile that had been tilting his lips more and more of late did so again. The smile Meredith had returned to him.

“You look different.”

Tristan started at the sound of Philip’s voice at his elbow. He wiped the surprise from his face as he turned to his friend. “Different? You’re absurd. There is nothing different about me.”

Philip tilted his head. “There is. I hadn’t noticed it until now. You seem more at ease.”

Tristan frowned. He’d been trying to keep the changes in his soul seperate from his behavior,
especially around Philip, since his friend had continuing doubts about Meredith.

“If I am, it’s because this business with Devlin will be over soon. That is all you sense.”

“No. It’s more than relief.” Philip shook his head. “You look—happy. I haven’t seen you this way for a long time.”

Tristan hesitated as he watched Meredith’s posture change. She had sensed him watching her. Slowly, she turned toward him. From the distance, he saw her smile.

“It’s
her.
” Philip drew back a step. “It’s Meredith Sinclair.”

“No, you’re being foolish.” Tristan folded his arms and tried to keep all reaction from his face. “I’ve told you before, any connection I have with Meredith is merely for show, to divert Devlin’s interest.”

Philip’s eyebrow arched. “You’re lying.” Tristan opened his mouth, but his friend held up a hand to interrupt. “Do not threaten all you have done, all you’ve sacrificed, for a woman! Especially one we are not sure isn’t affiliated with Devlin herself!”

Tristan clenched his fists and did his best to measure his response. “
I
know she’s not in league with Devlin, Philip.
You
are the only one unsure.”

Philip motioned below with one hand. “She is about to engage the bastard at this very moment.”

Tristan pivoted to see Meredith approach Devlin. Her smile appeared genuine, and then she
began speaking to Devlin as if he were a normal partygoer, not the devil himself in disguise. Bile rose in his throat. How little she knew of the danger she created with her actions.

Except…Tristan had told her at least twice not to put herself in Devlin’s path. True, he hadn’t explained his reasons, but why couldn’t she listen? It was almost as if she was flouting him.

That thought sank into his consciousness. That was exactly what Philip was saying, wasn’t it? That Meredith knew far more about Devlin than he wanted to admit. She had no fear of him because she was in league with him.

“No,” he murmured as he pushed the doubt away. He didn’t want this one good thing in his life to be tainted.

“You can’t shut your eyes to the possibility just because you’re falling in love,” Philip insisted.

Tristan’s muscles clenched. He hadn’t labeled the emotions he felt for Meredith, and he didn’t intend to start doing so now. It was a foolhardy exercise when he didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. It was best to leave their relationship as it was: a diversion neither was able to give up at present.

Still, the idea that he loved her didn’t seem so very foreign now that the words had been said.

He didn’t spare Philip a glance as he continued to watch Meredith converse with Devlin. “I understand what you’re saying, Philip, and I appreciate
your concerns. Trust that I’m taking them seriously, although I cannot believe Meredith would be in league with a man like Augustine Devlin.”

“Then why—” Philip began, but stopped when Tristan raised a hand to silence him.

“In a few days our business with Devlin will be completed. Hopefully, I will garner the access I’ve been looking for and I can end this madness. Once I have, everything will become apparent.” He scowled as Meredith laughed below. “My future, whatever it may be, will finally be clear.”

She didn’t want to do this.

That Meredith was standing an arm’s length from Devlin, carefully navigating the waters of polite conversation should have thrilled and excited her. Instead, she was terrified. What if Devlin revealed something incriminating about Tristan? What if he confirmed her deepest fears?

She pursed her lips at the thought. That was exactly what she was here to determine, yet she dreaded it. How far she’d fallen from her training. How disappointed Charles and Lady M and her friends would be if they could see her now, so unsure, ready to run if Devlin began to confess anything to implicate Tristan.

“Is something amiss, dear lady?” Devlin asked in that lazy drawl that indicated he was bored by life in general. A popular affectation among the men of the
ton.
One she despised all the more
in this man who had caused so much pain.

“Of course not, Mr. Devlin,” she answered with what she hoped resembled a bright smile. Emily was the master of disguise, not she, and she now longed for her friend’s talent at covering her true identity, as well as her true emotions.

He smiled, and she was again taken aback by how handsome the man was. It proved one couldn’t judge a villain by his outward appearance. If Devlin’s golden good looks were the only thing to recommend him, he would be considered a saint, not a demon.

But she knew better.

“I am glad. Your expression seemed to reflect some kind of upset or anger.”

She cursed herself. “Oh, not at all, Mr. Devlin. I could be nothing but pleased on a day like today.” She motioned around the beautiful garden with a wide smile. “The sun is warm and bright, the gardens are delightful, as is the company. How could I be upset or angered?”

“I thought perhaps you might have had a misunderstanding with our host.”

Meredith froze at Devlin’s secret smile, at the icy tone of his voice.

“With our host?” she repeated, blinking vapidly. “Why in the world would you think that? His lordship and I have no special bond.”

Devlin watched her with suddenly sharp eyes. The affectation of ennui was gone, replaced by an
amused interest that told Meredith he knew something.

“Is that true?” he drawled, folding his arms with a sly smirk. “Perhaps my dear friend Tristan has been playing a cruel trick on me.”

She stiffened. Was he toying with her?

“His lordship, play a trick that involves me? Well, sir, you certainly have my attention.”

He watched her without answering for a moment, like a man considering his next move in a complex game of chess. “You are aware Lord Carmichael and I are involved in business.”